Canterlot, City Of The Dead

by Jest

Morose Musings

Author's Note:

This is a part of the Jest Days of Christmas, where I update something every single day of December. Go check out the link for the full list and check back everyday for a new update!

Dawn rarely came to Canterlot anymore.

Between the death fog and the constant cloud cover very little light emerged and what did break through the grey skies landed upon a city that death forgot. With no solar guidance helping the citizens of Canterlot, most learned a simple spell to ensure they awoke from whatever slumber their breed of dead could manage.

For Rarity, that meant the soft tinkling of chimes could be heard just above her head, awakening her from the deep, trancelike state she induced in herself every night. Flames suddenly sprung into being behind the eyeholes of the helmet that was her head, signaling that the revenant had risen. Stretching an armored hoof to the sky, Rarity let out a long, and altogether unnecessary yawn, one that grew to the point that her entire plate mail body stretched like a cat.

Her body clanked unexpectedly as she stretched, a loose strap that usually secured the breastplate to the rest of her body had come loose sometime during the night. Looking down, Rarity sighed, the sound reverberating through her metal body until her voice gained a strange, almost otherworldly tone to it.

“It's every night with you.” She remarked, the metal horn built into her head lighting up and attaching the strap to its necessary place.

The revenant stood and looked around the room while continuing to stretch and slowly wake up, even though her metal joints needed no prompting to shake off the grogginess of sleep.

“You know, I think I’m finally starting to enjoy my little meditation sessions these days.” She commented to the empty room.

With a flash of her horn, she dismissed the alarm enchantment that had been tinkling overhead and began to look around her suite. The room was as opulent as ever, befitting a private chamber in Canterlot castle, though Rarity noted that it had changed significantly since she had first taken up residence here almost nine years ago. The colors were now muted, and darkened to the point that they were completely different from the vibrant shades that had once adorned the castle. This was due in part to the fact that the dreary light that so rarely pierced the cloud cover meant that only the brightest color stood out, and most creatures found such brightness repugnant.

Nowadays the colors were chosen to better work with the deep blue of the magelight that illuminated the halls, the streets, and most houses. With no manner of candle-making possible, and little to no light coming from the sky, no matter the time of day, most had gotten used to the unnatural blue flames that dotted every corner of Canterlot. Rarity on the other hoof, had detested the lights for a long time, but now that she had lived among them for so long she had to admit she too had at least gotten used to their presence.

They represented an interesting challenge when it came to decorating, as well as creating anything for that matter, as whatever colors she chose needed to work with the blue of magelight. Silver, grey, black, and those kinds of muted colors worked well with the royal blue, though Rarity was ever daring and had gone so far as to experiment with purples and violets that played off the blue light quite well.

Reaching for a duster, Rarity ran it across the window sill, her bookcases, and both dressers she kept, making sure to pay extra attention to the plethora of picture frames that dotted the dressers. Stopping for a moment Rarity picked up one of the pictures and stared down at the drawing of her sister, memories of a distant time flashing through her mind. She had kept no actual pictures when she had first gone to Canterlot all those years ago, and what with the wall being what it was, Rarity had to settle for an artist’s representation of her sister and family rather than a true photo.

Along the same dresser pictures of her friends and family were spread out randomly, each one being of a happier time and each one painted, drawn, or otherwise created by an artist, rather than a camera. Some of the ponies of Canterlot had gotten rather good at the art of drawing based only on description, meaning that nearly all of the images were perfect, though one artist had added just a little too much weight to Rarity’s father. Something she thought was rather fitting, as he had started to put on weight the last time they saw each other in the flesh.

The revenant chuckled at her own joke, something she would never admit to, as she feared Pinkie Pie would start cracking even more corpse jokes than she already did. Placing the picture back on the dresser, the suit of armor sighed and made sure there was no dust marring the frames before reluctantly putting away the duster, which wasn't the least bit dirty.

Turning back around, Rarity made a note once more over the fact that her room felt empty without a bed, even though she could not sleep, and would undoubtedly destroy any bed she laid upon. Instead, there was a large meditation rug laid out in front of the nearly floor-to-ceiling windows, which were still obscured by the shades she had installed years ago. The rug had a depiction of a starry night sewn into it, which also contained the cutie marks of both herself and her family hidden amongst the stars.

It was beautiful, and Rarity hated it.

Trotting up to the windows, Rarity raised her metal hoof and drew the shades, revealing the deep grey skyline of Canterlot. The perpetual darkness that hung over their city was oppressive as ever, something that Rarity’s eyes hardly even noticed anymore, as the sentient suit of armor could see no matter how dark it was. Logically she knew the fog was still there, but something made her stop and realize that it had begun to let up a little bit since last she looked.

She could see further than before, and she noted that there was also more light than usual. If Rarity could, she knew she would be smiling right now, but without lips or even a face for that matter, the suit of armor was forced to express its joy via a happy little squeal that sounded akin to two metal joints grinding together.

“Oh, this is wonderful! I wonder if Twilight’s tests were correct and the fog really will lift completely soon?” She asked the empty room.

The suit of armor imagined itself grinning as it stared out over the city, its gaze lingering on the many stone, and some metal structures that rose over their closest fellows. The damage that had been wrought during the black wedding had been fixed, but without the access to timber, or any other building material save stone and steel, the scars left behind by that fateful day were still visible if you knew where to look. However, that wasn't the only thing that had changed in Canterlot, as despite the population not growing a single iota in the nine years, new buildings still sprung up all across the city.

With little else to do, and the population having already been dramatically lowered before they had joined the ranks of the dead, every pony that wanted one had been given a house to themself, and spiraling additions, and massive, semi-private structures dotted the Canterlot cityscape. With no worries about rent, or a need to feed one’s self, most citizens had been able to indulge in their desires for fabulous homes and expansive villas. Almost every last one of which was built in the new style that the few remaining architects had dubbed Gothic Deco.

Rarity found it utterly repulsive and was only too glad that as part of the inner circle, she was more or less confined to the castle, ineligible to receive one of the many garish mansions and large houses that filled nearly every last square inch of Canterlot. Not that Rarity really blamed the ponies of Canterlot for wanting the new buildings, or Twilight for approving them, as a large, dead, and empty city had been even more depressing than the spiraling towers and lavish houses that had been built.

At least now there were fewer houses, but also fewer empty ones, and that was a win in Rarity’s book.

The suit of armor clanged a hoof upside her helmet before giving her head a shake, suddenly realizing she had been staring for a great number of minutes.

“Stay together Rarity, we have places to be today remember?” She reminded herself, forcing her hooves to land one in front of the other until she found herself before the bathroom door.

Using her steel hoof, the revenant pushed open the door to reveal a completely average bathroom, save for the lack of a toilet. She had no need for such an object after all, and with age no longer being a concern to the suit of armor, Rarity had petitioned successfully for the toilet’s removal, as it stood as little more than as a reminder for all that she had lost since her transformation.

Instead, the bathroom had a standard sink, as well as a large shower that was big enough to contain her entire metal bulk with ease. Turning to the sink, Rarity looked into the mirror, her gaze immediately latching onto the twin mauve flames that were now her eyes.

The twin orbs of fire twisted this way and that as she moved around her head, her attention temporarily fixed on the glowing objects. They were perhaps the strangest part of her transformation, and though she could not and did not need to blink, the orbs were otherwise a near-perfect replacement for her eyes.

They shrunk when Rarity was shocked, grew when she was angry, and flickered when confused, displaying the emotion Rarity’s unmoving, unchangeable steel face could not. Sighing to herself, the revenant turned her attention to the rest of her helmet slash head.

It was a standard helmet for the guard some two centuries ago, with a large grill of many thin slats of steel, which covered where her mouth would be, something that had been welded shut when the suit had been become a mere decoration over a century ago. Twin slats allowed a perfect field of view for Rarity’s flames, though the suit of armor was unsure if that would have been true if she were wearing the helmet rather than having her soul inhabit that same helmet. Though initially lacking any such minor design changes or personal touches, Rarity had altered much from the original, bland design.

The simple steel horn protector had been modified significantly, adding a swirling bush of roses that crawled up the object, having been engraved along the horn’s length and ending at the very tip with a large flowering rose. The gorget of her armor also bore the relief of her cutie mark, something she chose not to look at most of the time, silently hating the fact that it was one of the few things others could use to discern her from the other revenants that called the city home. Though the armor bore many other small, but noticeable artistic changes, Rarity didn't bother focusing on them and instead summoned her magic, her horn protector alighting with a familiar teal glow.

From the other room, a drawer opened and several bows, feathers, sashes as well as the odd nick nack levitated over to her, floating next to the revenant as she tried each one on individually. The bows were a little too extravagant, though their color was predictably muted, as the mere act of adding a bow felt at odds with her mediocre mood. As she continued to try on accessory after accessory, she quickly found herself latching onto a bright red sash that draped across her shoulders and hung down her body as well as a steel rose that she used her magic to clamp to the spot just above where her right ear would be.

Turning this way and that, Rarity gave her appearance a thorough inspection before nodding contentedly.

“You still got it Rarity.” She whispered.

Turning from the bathroom, Rarity made her way over to the other room and picked up the small notepad she had written her schedule on. Noticing that there was nothing official to do for several hours and only a single meeting on the docket, she turned and chose to use some of her free time working on more of the flowers she had become famous for, one of which she now wore.

Dropping the pad of paper randomly on the floor, Rarity trotted across the room, not even noticing the distinct clank her hooves made against the stone. Pulling a box from the shelf, the mare stared out the window as she pulled one of the unfinished metal objects from the box. Taking it in her magic, Rarity began to use her hooves to bend the leaves into position almost entirely by muscle memory. She had no true artistic desire but instead was driven only by a need to fill time, and if she was lucky, make a few other creatures happy when they were given one of her creations.

True, the flower was little more than a cruel facsimile of a living rose, but that was something no one in Canterlot could get or grow anymore, and this was, unfortunately, the best anyone could do. Thinking of the joy she may bring to her fellow undead helped her through it, and Rarity even managed to muster the creative drive necessary to ensure that each one of her metal flowers were different, and unique, even if that difference was small and barely noticeable to most.

She was about to pick up another pile of scrap metal, and begin the arduous process of bending it into a more pleasing shape, but when she gripped the metal in her hooves, she felt no drive to continue. Placing the metal scrap back into it's box off to the side, Rarity delicately picked up the flowers she had completed before making her way over to the otherside of the room and dumping them into a large box next to the door.

The flowers joined an ever growing pile of their fake brethren, clanking audibly and alerting the revenant to the fact that the box was very nearly full once more. Sighing to herself, Rarity pulled off a sticky note, grabbed a pen, and quickly wrote herself a note that reminded her to bring the flowers to her assistant Coco for distribution. She was about to stick it to the wall above the box, only to realize that three such sticky notes saying identical things were already stuck there.

With a shrug, she stuck the fourth note next to the others. “I really should bring these to Coco, I bet the dear is worried sick about me.” The revenant paused and tried to remember how long it had been since they had seen one another.

Shrugging once more, Rarity abandoned that line of thinking entirely, no longer able to muster the effort necessary to even care about the time between visits, as there was little reason to care about time itself anymore. Making her way over to the door, Rarity paused when she lifted her hoof, wondering just where she was going, and indeed why.

Sure her routine had been to go out into the castle, to greet her favorite guards before going down to the maid’s area and getting today’s juicy gossip, but like most days, she had no true desire to actually do any of that. In the end, she reasoned it was better than sitting in her room staring at a wall, and with resignation weighing heavy on her shoulders, the revenant pushed open the door only to immediately stop when her eyes rested on a familiar sight, one that she had not seen hide nor hair of in a long time.

“Spike?”